Switch Back
by Clutching at Straws
Summary: No matter how far you run, your past will always catch up with you...
1. Switch Back

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

Author Note: If you're a M.A.S.K. canon purist, you may want to look away now. I'm playing a little fast and loose with one or two canon elements. I hope you can forgive me. This is also the set-up for a much longer story, so all questions will be answered. Eventually ;)

Author Note 2: This is a repost/re-edit of the original Switch Back. I've ironed out a couple of minor kinks and smoothed out some of the dialogue. Hopefully, you'll think it's an improvement, too!

With many thanks to **tenonsum**, **ganeris, angel** and **freespirit127** for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

Switch Back

_Why do I always end up chasing Vanessa?_ Buddy wondered as he pursued the VENOM agent into the former Sunset Motel. _She was always faster than me._ Memories of less lethal games of chase loomed, when they'd both been unwanted kids in the county home; games of chase that he'd so frequently ended up losing. Just like now. Back then, she'd been his little sister, he'd been her big brother – though there was actually barely any age difference between them.

_And now we seem to spend most of our time trying to kill each other,_ Buddy noted, taking the stairs two and three at a time.

Sometimes, he wondered what Vanessa would say – or do – if she knew the truth; that her 'big brother' was one of the people working so hard to stop her. _She'd probably want to know why I didn't quit the second I knew about her._ Buddy smiled thinly. _Thing is, I'm still looking out for her. She just doesn't know that._ And that was the reason it was always him who got to chase Vanessa. _Because Matt knows I'm the only one who ever stands a hope of getting through to her._

He rounded the next twist on the stairs and had to duck rapidly or risk being decapitated thanks to a shot from Vanessa's Whiplash mask.

"MASK pest," Vanessa hissed. "Why don't you just quit?"

"You'd miss me if I did," Buddy answered, dodging another laser whip.

"Like a tooth ache," snapped Vanessa, turning to run on.

"Oh no ya don't." This time, just for once, he was going to catch her.

Without needing to think about it, Buddy dived forwards, tackling Vanessa to the ground. She lashed out with fists and feet and head, but Buddy's bigger bulk won-out and he was able to pin her arms behind her back.

"I'm taking you in, Vanessa," Buddy hissed, "so you might as well quit fighting me."

"Never!"

But her retort was drowned by the ominous sound of falling masonry. Both of them froze. Falling masonry couldn't mean anything good.

"Buddy; get out of there!" Matt's voice sounded strained over the communications net, as if the battle outside hadn't been going well at all.

"We have to go." Buddy dragged Vanessa back to her feet and started towards the stairs.

"What do you mean 'we'?" Vanessa snapped. "I'm not going anywhere with you." She started struggling.

"Rax has set charges," reported another MASK agent over the communications net. "Got no way to neutralise them. Buddy, get outta there!"

Buddy was too busy trying to avoid Vanessa's kicks and still retain his hold on her to bother identifying the bearer of that piece of bad news, but he redoubled his efforts and finally reached the top of the stairs. There, Vanessa managed to brace herself, effectively preventing either of them from descending.

"Look," he snapped, "your buddy Rax is trying to blow up this building. So unless you want---"

Buddy didn't have a chance to finish what he was saying. The dull _whumpf_ of explosive charges going off neatly curtailed his sentence. There was one long, stretched out second of silence, and then, with a dull roar, the building started to collapse in on itself.

As the concrete floor they'd been standing on crumbled, Vanessa screamed.

They started to fall.

And Buddy did the one thing he could think of: "Penetrator – on!"

Vanessa screamed again as the world blurred and took on a blue-grey shadowed look. Buddy couldn't blame her. It was disconcerting when you knew to expect it; how much weirder was it when you weren't?

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to keep us from getting killed."

A falling steel beam dropped towards them; then through them. Vanessa gave a short, chocked off cry and then went limp in Buddy's arms. For a fraction of a second, Buddy was worried. Then the next instant, they were both fading through the rubble pile and he was glad to know she wasn't awake to see the sickening blur of twisted steel and stone as they passed through it.

The broken concrete seemed to go on and on and Buddy began to wonder if he'd miscalculated. Were they going to end up materialising in solid rock? _That would end this whole caper right there._ Again he was glad to know Vanessa had fainted. At least if that did happen, she'd never know what hit her.

Then two things seemed to happen all at once. The terrible blur of stone and metal was replaced with darkness and the penetrator effect wore off. There was just enough time for Buddy to recognise that they'd reached the hotel's basement parking garage and then he hit the ground with a breathtaking thud.

* * *

It was sometime later that Buddy fully came round. The faint hiss of static told him that he could expect no help from the rest of the team for the time being; the blurry darkness told him he was still in the hotel's parking garage. The question was, where was Vanessa?

He shifted a little, intending to sit up, only to have white hot pain stab straight through his shoulder. He bit his lip in an effort not to scream.

He thought he might have been successful, then a voice said, "Broken collar bone, as far as I can tell."

That, at least, told Buddy that Vanessa was still here and still alive. The big brother in him let out a sigh of relief. The rest of him was far more concerned by what she'd said. "How can you tell?"

Light, sure fingers ran across his injured shoulder, provoking a hiss of pain. "I can feel the break."

Something was different. It took Buddy a couple of seconds to realise that Vanessa had removed her mask. He wondered at that. All he said was, "Oh."

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen," Vanessa continued. "You could have got us both killed."

Despite the situation, Buddy smiled. This was the Vanessa he'd grown up with. She always tried to cover her fear with anger. "Seemed like the best thing to do at the time," he replied mildly. "Anything had to beat getting crushed."

"And we wouldn't have been in there to be crushed if you'd just let me go."

So they were back to that, were they? Buddy sighed. "And maybe if Rax hadn't decided to play demolition derby, or if Mayhem had decided to go flower picking today instead of terrorising downtown San Diego, we wouldn't be here either."

Vanessa's next words were a shock: "You weren't supposed to catch me."

Maybe it was the pain from his shoulder or maybe he'd hit his head harder against the garage floor than he'd thought, but it took Buddy several seconds to track exactly what Vanessa meant. "You knew what Rax was doing," he realised.

Vanessa said nothing.

Was it concussion fuelling the sudden nausea or was it the realisation that his little sister could be complicit in something as cold-blooded as murder?

Then came another shock. "When--- When Rax's charges went off, why didn't you just run?"

"I couldn't---" But Buddy couldn't even finish that statement.

Vanessa obviously misunderstood his half-started comment. "You could have!" she exploded. "You could have got out. You could have left me and---"

"And what?" Pain or no pain, Buddy sat up, reaching for Vanessa with his uninjured arm. "And leave you to die in a collapsing building?" He caught hold of her arm and shook it. "Who the hell do you think MASK is? Who the hell do you think I am?" He swallowed as more bile hit the back of his throat. "Vanessa, it's my job to protect people from VENOM. Last time I checked, you're a person."

"I'm also a VENOM agent. I can take care of myself."

"Right." Buddy snorted. "You get yourself caught in a building you know is going to be blown up, but sure, you can take care of yourself."

Buddy wasn't sure who he was the angriest with. He was angry himself for not being quicker, but it was Mayhem, who'd come up with this plan in the first place. And then there was Rax, who hadn't cared that Vanessa was in the building when the charges went off. Rax, who was supposed to have loved Vanessa once. On balance, maybe that was where most of his anger was directed.

The big brother in him longed to get his hands on Rax. _I owe him,_ Buddy thought grimly. _And someday, I'm going to pay him back._

Awkward silence filled the parking garage. Buddy guessed Vanessa had no response to his outburst and he didn't know what else he could say. Instead, he tried to concentrate on the information his mask was feeding him. Information on depth of rubble above; on airflow; on possible ways out; on mask power levels. Unfortunately, his eyes refused to focus on any of the readouts.

"No, no, no!" Vanessa's hand came down on his uninjured shoulder and shook it. "You are not going to pass out on me. You got me into this mess; you can damn well get me out of it."

Buddy blinked dizzily. "Pass out? I'm not gonna---"

"Skip it," said Vanessa harshly. "If you're not losing consciousness, why the hell are you leaning on me?"

_Just like old times,_ Buddy thought, absently noting that despite her complaints, Vanessa wasn't forcing him to move. _We leaned on each other then. Seems right we should do it now._

"Damn it! Will you focus?" Dimly, Buddy recognised that once more Vanessa was covering her fear. "Talk to me," she demanded. "What does your mask say about airflow?"

"Why not just look at yours?"

"Mine's damaged," Vanessa admitted.

"Oh." Well it was a reasonable request. Buddy swallowed hard and then tried to make the characters on the display stop dancing around and multiplying long enough for him to read them.

"Well?"

Buddy swallowed again, trying to will away the increasing nausea. "Air's good. Please don't make me do that again."

"Damn, you really are concussed."

To Buddy's surprise, the words came out matter-of-fact; a sure sign that Vanessa had moved from fear to full-blown panic. "Does it matter?" he mumbled.

"Of course it matters," snapped Vanessa. "How the hell are we supposed to get out of this if you can't see straight enough to read something as simple as an airflow measurement?"

"MASK."

"Not if Mayhem's plan's worked out."

"And that happens so often."

"Can you hear any of your friends?" Vanessa asked.

"No," Buddy admitted. "Only static. But we're probably too deep---"

"Or there's no-one out there," Vanessa finished. "Mayhem's plan was to pick you off, one by one. There were traps set for all of you and you fell into yours."

"Yeah well." Buddy found himself wanting to laugh, though nothing about the situation was remotely funny. "They never did claim I was the brains of the team. The rest of the guys are smarter than that."

"You hope."

"I **know**," Buddy corrected, his eyes sliding shut. "Now please, just let me sleep."

"Damn it, no," Vanessa snapped. "You are not going to sleep."

"Try and stop me," he mumbled.

He felt a light touch on his injured shoulder. The next second white-hot pain lanced the abused joint and he screamed.

"I don't want to do that again," Vanessa stated, her voice unsteady, "but you have to stay awake."

The pain collected in the pit of Buddy's stomach and turned to raging nausea. "Help me up," he gasped.

There might have been something in his voice that gave it away, or maybe Vanessa had been expecting it. Either way, she didn't argue. She simply did as he asked and helped him up into a kneeling crouch.

"Better?" she asked.

Buddy gulped a couple of deep breaths and tried to will the nausea away. "Maybe."

Hesitantly, Vanessa said, "It could help to take your mask off."

Matt might kill him for it later, but at this point, Buddy felt that would probably be a mercy. "Do it."

Awkwardly, Vanessa popped the seal and lifted the mask off. A cool breeze hit his face, drying the sweat that had built up and leaving him feeling shivery. His stomach rebelled and bile hit the back of his throat again.

"Talk to me," said Vanessa. "Keep talking to me."

"What about?" Buddy asked thickly.

"Anything. Where you grew up."

"It wasn't so interesting." Of all things, why did she hit on that? "Average."

"Well I don't know anything about average. Tell me about it."

Buddy swallowed. Why did it have to be that? "Not much to tell."

"Tell it anyway. Where did you grow up?"

"West Beach, Florida," Buddy lied.

"That doesn't sound average."

"Guess." Buddy swallowed hard. "You?"

"Me what?" Vanessa asked.

"If I'm telling you about my childhood, you can tell me about yours."

"I didn't have one." Her voice was brittle. "I lived in a children's home in Boulder, Colorado."

Buddy winced. "I---"

"I don't want your sympathy," she snapped, cutting him off. There was a pause. "What was West Beach like? I don't think I've ever been there."

Nausea finally abating, Buddy had to smile at her comment. He could tell her the only reason he knew anything about West Beach was thanks to a vacation that VENOM had ultimately ruined, but he doubted she'd appreciate that. He'd always meant to go back. Maybe he could now. If his collarbone really was broken, he wouldn't be working for a long while. Just right for a vacation.

"You're drifting again," said Vanessa sharply. "C'mon," she cajoled. "Stay here. Talk to me."

Buddy opened his mouth to reply, but into that miniature silence, the bleep of someone trying to contact him via his mask's communications link seemed unnaturally loud.

"I guess this is where you tell me you told me so," Vanessa muttered as she helped him to re-seal his mask, but there was no heat to her words.

"No," said Buddy. "This is where we both get out of this mess." Without waiting to see if Vanessa had any response, he answered the link. "Please tell me you can get us out of here."

"Buddy?" Matt sounded exhausted now. "Are you all right?"

It seemed like such an inane question, Buddy couldn't help but laugh, though that movement sent stabs of pain through his already abused shoulder. "I'm in the basement of a collapsed building with a busted shoulder and concussion so bad I can't see straight. Not even Dusty could say this was 'all right'."

"And just for that, you see if I help dig," snorted Dusty.

"Quiet," Matt said, effectively hushing any other heckles. "Buddy, is Vanessa with you?"

"Yeah." The desire to laugh suddenly left. "She's here."

"Is she injured?"

"Her mask's damaged. Otherwise, I don't think so." Sheepishly, Buddy realised he hadn't actually asked.

"Good." Though quite what Matt meant by that, Buddy wasn't sure. "We'll have you free in a few minutes. MASK out."

The connection cut and Buddy found himself sagging in relief. This whole nightmare would soon be over.

"Well?" Vanessa asked, reminding Buddy that if their incarceration was over, there were some aspects of the whole mess that might just persist a while longer.

"They're gonna get us out." There didn't seem to be a lot of point in saying anything more.

Vanessa grunted and a couple of minutes of silence ticked by. Buddy's eyes were just beginning to close again when she suddenly said,

"It wasn't all bad."

"What wasn't?"

"The children's home," she clarified. "It wasn't so bad. I had someone looking out for me."

"Friend?" Buddy asked, morbidly curious as to who she meant.

"Brother," said Vanessa. "He was my big brother."

There was no time for any more conversation. Roughly three feet away from where Buddy was crouching still, the ceiling of their prison began to glow first a dull red, then orange, then yellow, then white-hot. Then Buddy could see blue sky through the newly made hole. A moment later and he saw the welcome shape of Bruce leaning over the hole.

"One moment," Bruce promised. "Lifter – on."

Buddy felt himself slowly and gently being lifted by the power of Bruce's mask. Unfortunately, for all the care Bruce took, the sensation of flying just increased the nausea and Buddy was all too glad to see Julio also waiting, along with Matt and Dusty.

Not that masks could express emotion, he got the impression all four were relieved to see him. He also got the feeling that they were rather less pleased to see Vanessa coming up out of the hole behind him. In fact, Buddy suspected that they were, all four, rather pointedly ignoring her, but as Bruce set him down safely on the sidewalk, everything started to blur and minor details like that stopped being important.

Someone said, "We need to get him to a hospital, now."

Someone else said, "Hey – where'd the red-haired bitch go?"

The first speaker again: "It doesn't matter. Hospital now. Worry about Vanessa Warfield's location later. She's not going to try anything until her mask's fixed."

And then, as far as Buddy was concerned, everything faded into a nice, soothing blackness.


	2. Lost Dreams

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

With many thanks to Ganeris, Angel and Nessa for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

Lost Dreams

It hadn't taken much for Vanessa to slip away from the former Sunset Motel. The four MASK agents present were far too concerned about their injured colleague to worry about her, and the moment their backs were turned, she made her escape.

She needed to find somewhere she could lie low and think things through. Mayhem had given the order to blow the hotel, despite knowing she was still inside. Rax had gone along with it, despite knowing she was likely to be trapped and possibly killed. The MASK agent she'd been supposed to trap there had saved her life.

It didn't make sense.

* * *

It still wasn't making any sense later that night as Vanessa lay in bed in the cheap motel room she'd rented, trying to sleep. When morning came, she'd leave San Diego, though exactly where she was going was another matter. That was a decision probably better made on the back of a good night of sleep, unfortunately, the puzzle of what had happened that afternoon refused to let up.

Rax and Mayhem had blown up the Sunset Motel and blown away ten years of comradeship. The MASK agent she'd been trying to kill off and on in those same ten years had rescued her, had saved her.

It didn't make sense.

Why would Mayhem not care?

Why would the MASK agent put his own life on the line to save hers?

She stared up at the darkened motel room ceiling, a small, mocking smile on her face. He'd said, _"My job is to protect people from VENOM. Last time I checked, you're a person."_ It was almost a cliché: the good guy putting the bad girl's life ahead of his own just because it was the right thing to do.

But, even if it was just a hero reflex, at least he'd cared. That was more than either Rax or Mayhem had.

Vanessa rolled over and tried burying her head in the pillows, but it did nothing to stop the thoughts chasing each other round and round her mind.

It just flat out made no sense.

Unless---

She tried to stop the treacherous little voice from continuing that thought, but it wouldn't be silenced. The only way Rax's behaviour made any sense was if the plan had been for her to be trapped, too.

Was he that grasping and determined to rise in the VENOM ranks?

But Vanessa knew the answer to that question. Of course he was. Rax was ambitious and she was standing in his way.

Buddy'd been right.

Vanessa rolled over again and sat up, frowning. Why had she just thought that? She hadn't thought about Buddy in months; she hadn't thought about his warnings in far, far longer. On reflection, though, she knew why Buddy came to mind. It was talking with the MASK agent about being a kid.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time; find a neutral topic, distract him and keep him talking. What she hadn't expected was for him to turn it back on her. She'd spent so long actively trying not to think about the home and growing up and Buddy that she'd almost convinced herself it had all been bad. And then the MASK agent had been sympathetic.

And she'd realised she'd been kidding herself.

Sure, it hadn't been great, but it hadn't mattered. She and Buddy'd been a team.

Vanessa put her head in her hands and groaned. Sleep was what she needed, not reminiscences for a life that was long since over. Except that it looked very much as if her present life was finished too. If she was right, and Rax had tried to get rid of her, going back to VENOM was a bad idea. But if she left VENOM, where did she go?

"I could go to MASK," she murmured, but the thought carried no weight.

How could she go to an organisation that didn't, to all intents and purposes, exist? At various times in the last ten years, she'd tried to root out just who they were and where they were based, but it seemed like the only person who knew that, aside from the MASK agents themselves, was Duane Kennedy – and he wasn't telling. She could tour San Diego's hospitals, looking for a man with bad concussion and a broken shoulder, but Vanessa was almost positive that whoever he was, MASK wouldn't leave him where she could find him.

No; turning herself over to MASK wasn't likely to happen, unless she staged something spectacular – and something spectacular enough to attract their attention was just as likely to drag VENOM onto her tail.

"What am I going to do?" she wondered.

Vanessa glanced at the motel room clock. The glowing red digits mockingly proclaimed it was barely midnight. Considering the day's events, she should have been exhausted, but it looked as if sleep wasn't going to be an option tonight. With another groan, she flung the blankets back and climbed out of bed. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well get ready to leave. She couldn't hide here for the rest of her life. Even if it was a tempting idea.

Padding into the bathroom, she paused in front of the mirror. Buddy would probably tell her she looked like shit. He'd be right too. Her hair hung in limp rats tails; her face was pale; there were deep bruise-like shadows beneath her bloodshot eyes. Definitely no glamour puss right now.

"I can't leave if I don't know where to go," she murmured. "Where would you go?" she added, asking her reflection. Her reflection just stared back, haggard and worn. "Right."

She sighed. The answer to the question was obvious. It was time to stop running. Time to stop kidding herself.

Time to go home.

Going home, going back to Boulder, seemed like a terrifying prospect, but the more she thought about it, the more sure she was it was her only option. She hadn't been back in ten years, but something about going home seemed right. Of course, going home meant going to see Buddy, and that might just be the hardest thing she'd ever considered doing. She knew that when she'd gone with Rax, she'd hurt him badly. Maybe he'd react now like he did then and just toss her out; except that didn't seem like the Buddy she'd grown up with. His anger always blew over fast.

But this had been different.

He'd told her to stay away; that they'd had nothing more to say to each other.

Vanessa sighed and shook her head. She had nowhere else to go. And maybe he would just toss her out, but maybe he'd be able to help her.

And she couldn't stay here, hiding in a cheap motel bathroom.

"Guess I'm goin' home," she murmured.

Decision made, Vanessa frowned for a moment. First things first: She needed to call and find out what time the first flight to Denver was and regardless of when that was, there were preparations she needed to make.

Padding back out of the bathroom, she headed for the room's telephone and dialled San Diego's airport information line. While she waited for the call to connect, she started rummaging through her bag, looking for her Colorado driver's licence. Without that, she wasn't going to be flying anywhere. She finally found it as her call connected to the automated information system.

God but she hated automated phone systems.

Impatiently Vanessa listened to the menu and pushed the button for the morning's flight schedule. To her annoyance, instead of it being listed by time, the flights were all listed by airline, which meant she had to suffer through hearing the entire schedule for Aeromexico, Air Canada and several other airlines that were highly unlikely to fly anywhere near Denver.

While she listened, she pulled out a bottle of brush-in hair dye and a make-up kit from the bag and started to select what clothing she was going to wear. The date of birth on the license said she was twenty-three, so whatever she wore it was going to have to back that up, but that was OK. Vanessa the VENOM agent was supposed to be glamorous and sexy. Vanessa, Buddy's sister, had never been that. It would be nice to go back to that much simpler life.

Assuming she could get a flight to Denver in the first place, and she was beginning to suspect she'd have to fly via someplace else rather than travel direct as the mechanical voice announced Sun County Airlines. There surely couldn't be many more airlines after this. Then came the listing for United Airlines and finally came not one but two pieces of luck. Not only did United fly direct to Denver, their first flight to Colorado was at half past six.

A smile now on her face Vanessa dropped the receiver back onto its cradle and glanced at the motel room clock. Half past midnight. Given security and the like, she needed to be at the airport by half past four and that meant being ready to leave by three o'clock at the latest. Easy.

She returned to the bathroom and spread out the make-up and hair dye on the counter.

Time to become someone else, at least until she got back to Boulder.

Vanessa showered quickly then, wrapping a towel around herself, she started to apply the hair-dye. Little by little, her hair turned from flaming red to auburn to a muted chestnut colour that matched the photo on the license. The black streak still stood out, but there was little she could do for now; she didn't have the supplies to bleach and re-dye it, and she wasn't sure she wanted to take that step just yet. Just in case she did end up going back to VENOM. Besides, the bandanna she'd picked out would cover it temporarily.

Next she applied the make-up, working carefully but quickly to make herself look younger. It wouldn't fool Buddy, but it would work for everyone else. A couple of final touches with the eyeliner gave her a more wide-eyed look and she nodded.

Back in the room, she pulled on the jeans and t-shirt she'd selected from her bag, then tied the blue-and-white bandanna in place, hiding that black streak and completing the transformation. Gone was the cynical terrorist/thief and in her place was an ingénue grad-student on her way home.

Now that she was dressed, the next task was to repack her bag. The make-up kit went into the bottom, then the few personal items she had and her few items of other clothing. When she reached her VENOM uniform, she hesitated. Did she take it with her, or did she abandon it? It was tempting to just cast it off and leave it, but pragmatically, that made no sense. It was always good to have a fallback, even if she was positive she never wanted to use it. It went into the bag with everything else.

She took one last look around the room. All that was left behind was the empty hair-dye bottle.

Time to go.

Time to see if she had anything left outside of VENOM.

* * *

The flight from San Diego to Denver was actually remarkably painless, all things considered. Vanessa had no trouble getting a seat on it, and it was so quiet that she even managed to catch a little sleep. Unfortunately, as she now climbed aboard the bus to go from Denver to Boulder, she realised that her luck was definitely out. The bus was packed.

"Move your butt," demanded a woman who seemed to have marinated in a musk-based perfume.

Vanessa was tempted to turn and glare at the woman, who wouldn't have dared say 'boo' to her if she'd been dressed as the notorious Vanessa Warfield. In this guise, though, that glare wouldn't have the same weight.

"Sorry," she mumbled instead and squeezed into one of the few seats available, next to a mom and a wriggling small boy.

The boy offered a winning smile…

…and promptly kicked Vanessa in the shin.

_It's only thirty-five miles,_ she reminded herself as the bus pulled out of the depot in Denver.

They proved to be thirty-five very long miles.

By the time they came to an end, Vanessa had bruises up and down her shin and she was almost ready to shed the grad-student persona and rip the boy's mother a new one. Except that was probably a really fast way to land up in jail. So she bore the abuse until the bus pulled into the Boulder bus depot. Then she made sure to be amongst the first people off the bus.

Here, fortune was once more on her side and hers was one of the first bags out of the baggage hold and no more than five minutes after the bus' arrival, Vanessa was making her way out into the sunlight of mid-morning in Boulder.

The weird thing was it felt as if she'd never left. Nothing looked that different as she walked through downtown Boulder. A few shops had changed hands; a few buildings had been given a lick of paint. That was it. Just minor cosmetics. Did the same hold true for Buddy? Was he still the same?

Vanessa sighed. She'd know the answer to that question soon enough.

Trying to dismiss the question from her mind, at least for now, she set off for her first destination in Boulder: Her mother's old house.

She hadn't been to the house since being taken into State care when her mother died, but it had been kept for her by the terms of her mother's will, looked after by the lawyers in charge of the estate. She suspected that the monthly allowance she'd been paid from the time she was ten onwards had come from the proceeds made on renting it, but she'd never asked. When she'd turned eighteen she'd been given control over the house, but since she knew, by then, that working for VENOM meant being a nomad, she'd opted to keep that arrangement, modifying it only so that the basement apartment of the house became private, rather than being rented with the rest of the house. It meant she had somewhere she could come home to.

If she ever came home.

Vanessa smiled faintly as she finally reached the leafy residential streets she'd known as a very young kid. _Guess I'm coming home now._ Not that this trip was purely rooted in sentiment; there was a practical reason to come here before going to the gas station: When she'd made the arrangements about the apartment, she'd also arranged for the same lawyers to look after her car. It was all part of her life strategy: Live now but keep a fallback plan ready for when the now screwed up.

She reached the house now; glad to see her current tenants weren't at home. From a side pocket in her bag, she extracted the keys and let herself in to the basement apartment.

It was cluttered and cramped with the remnants of her mother's furniture and belongings. It smelt musty from disuse. And yet something about it felt like home all the same. Unsentimental or not, Vanessa paused. She couldn't be here for long; for one thing, she didn't want anyone thinking she was a burglar and calling the cops on her, for another, she did want to see where she stood with Buddy, so the less time she spent here the better. But still she paused. For just a moment, she wondered what her life would have been like if her mother hadn't died. Would she have gone to college? Would she have a nine-to-five job now? Would she be married and have a family of her own?

Pragmatism set in. She'd never know the answers to those questions. Her mother had died when she was six. No amount of tears and wishing had changed it then; no amount of wild imagining would change it now. She was what she was.

Setting her bag down just inside the door, Vanessa made a beeline for the desk, the only truly accessible piece of furniture in the apartment, and rifled through the drawers until she found the keys to her car. She smiled faintly. Buddy'd called it the museum piece when she'd first got it; if it had been old back then, what would he think of it now?

The lawyers had promised to leave the keys in the desk. And there they were, tucked in the bottom drawer, well away from any drawers that a casual thief might ransack, complete with a tag naming the location of the garage where the car was being stored.

Vanessa smiled. It was less than a block away.

Leaving her bag where she'd dropped it, Vanessa left the apartment and headed for the garage and the car and the last leg of her journey.

* * *

It was only as she neared Boulder Hill Gas Station that doubts began to cross Vanessa's mind. What if Buddy'd moved on? What if the gas station wasn't there any more? What if the people there had never heard of Buddy?

She'd always meant to keep tabs on what Buddy was doing, but life had gotten hectic and busy. VENOM had swallowed her whole and all she had to show from the last ten years was a collection of scars and a bunch of bad memories.

"Gotta start somewhere," Vanessa murmured, rounding the last bend and finding that the gas station, like the rest of Boulder, didn't seem to have changed much in her absence. "And starting here sure beats screwing up the courage to go bug a guy like Matt Trakker."

Refusing to let her doubts put her off, Vanessa pulled onto the service forecourt and stopped. She half expected to see Buddy shambling out of the garage to see who needed service, but no-one moved. Of course, it couldn't be that easy. She sighed and climbed out of the car. It seemed as if there really was no-one about; which was odd, since the sign said the station was open.

"Can I help you?"

The voice wasn't Buddy's. It belonged to a woman, who had appeared in the shop doorway, a faint smirk on her face. "Uh, I hope so," Vanessa answered, offering a nervous smile. "I'm looking for someone."

The woman's eyebrows shot up. "Ain't we all?"

Vanessa smiled again and rubbed suddenly sweaty palms against her thighs. "Guess we are. It's, uh." She stopped and swallowed. What if Buddy didn't work here any more? "Does Buddy Hawks still work here?"

Vanessa was prepared for most responses the woman could have come out with. If she'd said she'd never heard of Buddy, or if she'd answered no, Vanessa knew she could have handled it. But the woman came out with neither. Instead, she frowned. "Who wants to know?"

And before Vanessa had considered her answer, she said, "Emma Hawks; I'm his sister."

"Sister?" The woman's eyes narrowed.

Vanessa ducked her head, avoiding the woman's piercing gaze. "I haven't seen him in a while. We--- We argued. And I did stuff, said stuff, I shouldn't have done."

"I see." There was something in the woman's tone that Vanessa couldn't read. "You'd better come inside."

Now Vanessa recognised it. It was sympathy. Why was this strange woman offering her sympathy? It couldn't be for anything good.

"Well c'mon," drawled the woman, impatience overlaying the sympathy. "I ain't got all day, and I don't guess you do neither."

Vanessa gave herself a mental shake and forced herself to walk the few yards from her car to the shop door and then in to the cool, dim shop interior. The woman disappeared into the shop back room, only to reappear a moment later with a glass of water.

"Here," she said gruffly, offering it to Vanessa. "You'll need it."

Vanessa shook her head, refusing the glass. "What happened?" she asked, trying to quell the sudden burst of fear.

"There was an accident," said the woman abruptly.

"Accident?" Vanessa echoed, fear turning to full blown panic. "What happened?"

"He was working on a Chevy yesterday morning when one of the jacks gave way."

Vanessa stared in fast mounting horror and disbelief. "Is he OK? Where is he?"

The woman guided her down into one of the waiting area seats. "He's going to be fine," she said gently. "He's banged up good, and we ain't expecting to see him around here any time soon, but he's gonna be fine."

For a couple of minutes, Vanessa said nothing. How close had she come to losing Buddy altogether? But on the heels of that thought came another: Buddy was one of the most careful mechanics she'd met. As plausible as the story was, it didn't sit right.

"Here," said the woman presently. "Drink this; you've had a shock." And she pressed the glass of water into Vanessa's cold, clammy hands.

Vanessa took a sip or two and found it did help. He was going to be OK. Whatever had actually happened, the woman was telling the truth about that. "Where is he?" she finally managed to ask.

"He's in hospital right now," the woman answered. "Though he's not up to seeing visitors just yet; the doc says he's suffering bad concussion and seein' double."

Vanessa winced. She'd suffered concussion before. It was never fun, and she'd never had it that badly! From what the woman was saying, and what she wasn't, Buddy sounded almost as badly off as the MASK agent who'd saved her life the day before.

The simplicity of that comparison made Vanessa freeze. The MASK agent had been badly concussed. He hadn't said it in so many words, but she thought he'd been seeing double, by the time they were rescued. Now she discovered that Buddy was that badly concussed and from an accident she didn't quite believe.

The water glass slipped from Vanessa's nerveless fingers and shattered on the floor. It couldn't be. It shouldn't be. It had to just be coincidence. Didn't it?

"You OK, hon?" the woman asked.

"I---" Vanessa swallowed. "Did Buddy get hurt any place else?" It had to just be coincidence. She had to be leaping to conclusions.

The woman gave her a long, assessing look before saying, "Yeah. His shoulder took the worst of it. He's got a busted collarbone."

Vanessa wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if that might somehow stop the bile that was now threatening to escape. All along, it was Buddy. Buddy'd been the guy to save her life. Buddy was the one she was supposed to trap. Buddy she'd been trying to kill.

"Hon, are you OK?" the woman asked, a real concern in her voice now.

"I--- I don't know." Vanessa swallowed. "I'm sorry. Excuse me."

Blindly, Vanessa started towards the door, only to find herself being most effectively restrained by the woman. "Hon, listen to me," she said. "You've just had a shock. You're not in any kinda state to drive and what good's it gonna do you if you go slam yourself into a canyon wall or something on the way back into town?"

"But you don't understand," Vanessa gasped.

"Oh, I think I understand better than you'd guess," said the woman, knowingly. "And Buddy'd kill me if I let you go off like this. Now sit your butt back down on that seat."

And given no choice, Vanessa sat once more. To her surprise, the woman bustled back into the back room, to return, this time, with a steaming mug of coffee and a box of tissues. It was only then that Vanessa realised she was crying.

"Here," said the woman, holding out both tissues and coffee. "Figure you could use both."

Vanessa took a tissue from the box and used it to try and dry her eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I figure you're gonna beat yourself up about it all far better'n I can," said the woman matter-of-factly. "Besides. Like I said. Buddy'd kill me if I didn't."

"But I--- He---"

The woman put a hand on Vanessa's shoulder. "Listen, hon; as much as you've hurt him with all this bullshit, he still cares about you." She squeezed gently. "Trust me about that."

"You know," Vanessa croaked.

"Sure I do," said the woman. "Ain't much around here I don't know." She shrugged. "Drink the coffee 'fore it gets cold. You'll feel better."

Vanessa doubted that, but something about this woman suggested that argument wouldn't be permitted. So she drank the coffee and watched as the woman bustled about behind the shop counter, obviously looking for something.

With a cry of triumph and a mutter of, "Guess Earl's right, I do need to tidy up in here some," the woman came back out from behind the counter brandishing a piece of paper. "You'll be needing this."

Vanessa just stared in confusion. "What?"

The woman smiled. "The doc says Buddy won't be back home much inside of two weeks. Not with the shape his head and shoulder're in." Vanessa winced. "But this is where you can find him, when he does go home." She handed over the slip of paper.

Vanessa looked at it. It was an address in an apartment complex on this side of town. "I---" She swallowed. "You, you're giving me his address?"

The woman shrugged. "Figured I'd save you the trouble. 'Sides. Buddy always reckoned, if you ever showed up here, things would've changed, and you know what? He's right. Now, you think you can manage to drive back into town without wiping out?"

Mechanically, Vanessa nodded. "I, thank you."

The woman smiled. "You take care o' yourself."

Vanessa drove slowly back into Boulder, the slip of paper with Buddy's address on tucked into a pocket for safekeeping. Everything seemed to have gotten more complicated, but the woman seemed pretty convinced Buddy would want to see her, even allowing for everything she'd done.

Maybe everything would work out.

Maybe?


	3. Tomorrow's Promise

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

With many thanks to Ganeris, Angel and Nessa for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.

* * *

Tomorrow's Promise

Matt paced his office, a frown set heavily on his face.

On the one hand, they had been extraordinarily lucky in San Diego. Had it been anyone but Buddy in the Sunset Motel, MASK would have lost an agent. As it was, they had nearly lost an agent anyway. Julio's assessment of Buddy was that he must have fallen at least four storeys when the building collapsed and that, frankly, Buddy was lucky that all he'd suffered was a broken shoulder and serious concussion.

Not that Buddy would feel all that lucky.

On the other hand, as much as Matt hated what had happened and worried about the long-term effect on Buddy's health, he couldn't help but guiltily feel a small sense of hope blossom from the whole mess.

It hadn't just been Buddy trapped in the Sunset Motel's basement garage.

Matt liked to think that all of his agents would have done the basic, humane thing and helped to safeguard the life of anyone trapped with them, but asking them to save Vanessa Warfield might have been stretching a point with some of them. She was one of VENOM's most competent agents, and a frequently vicious opponent. She was also, not that many people realised it, MASK's best hope of ever finally cracking VENOM and bringing them down.

And that was entirely due to one thing: She was Buddy's adoptive sister.

From the moment he'd learned of Vanessa's connection to VENOM, Matt had been trying to make use of that relationship. He figured there was always the chance that Buddy might be able to talk her round, and so, whenever it the opportunity arose, he tossed the job of taking on Vanessa in Buddy's direction.

It had arisen, big time, in San Diego.

And as much as he regretted the fact that Buddy had been injured, Matt knew he wouldn't have changed his mind about who followed Vanessa into the Sunset Motel. Even knowing it was a trap and particularly considering that Rax and Mayhem had clearly double crossed Vanessa.

She'd been an opponent for so long now that he knew damn well that she wouldn't have agreed to Mayhem's plan if she'd known she was potentially signing her own death warrant. Was she tough? Yes. Was she willing to do whatever it took to succeed? Hell yes. Was she suicidal? Not a goddamn hope.

The real question was, what would she do about it? Was Mayhem's duplicity enough to push her into finally walking away from VENOM, or would she convince herself it had just been a one time deal?

At that point in Matt's thoughts there was a knock on the door. He paused mid way through his circuit of the office and turned towards the door in time to see Julio enter.

"Thought you'd like to know, Buddy's awake," said the doctor by way of a greeting.

Matt smiled, feeling at least a small amount of his worry evaporate. "Can I go up and see him?"

"Sure." Julio smiled. "Though go easy on him. He's liable to be groggy for at least the next day or so."

"Will he be all right?"

"His shoulder'll take six to eight weeks to heal. What I can't say is how his head's gonna do. There could be complications. Only time will tell." Julio snorted. "Of course, anyone who can fall four storeys and not do more damage to themselves is probably lucky whatever way you turn it."

Matt grinned faintly. "Buddy's always been lucky."

"He's like a cat," Julio observed. "Always lands on his feet." Then the doctor grinned puckishly. "Metaphorically, at least."

It was a bad joke, but Matt chuckled all the same.

"Anyway," Julio continued, barely stifling a yawn, "I'll be back this afternoon. You just need to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't try to do anything stupid. Gloria's with him now; she's got all the details. I'll stop in at the gas station on my way into town to let Cassidy know what's going on." He hesitated. "Any particular cover story you'd like Cassidy to use?"

Matt frowned for a moment. "The simplest stories work best. It had better be a work related accident."

"A jack giving way, then," said Julio. "That's the most likely."

"All right." Matt smiled faintly. He couldn't imagine anything less likely to happen to Buddy; the younger man was one of the most careful and cautious mechanics Matt had ever met. On the other hand, most people who asked after him wouldn't know Buddy that well.

As the doctor headed for home and some much needed sleep, Matt headed up to the apartment that had once been Buddy's home and that was now being used as a sick room. Buddy would probably complain about being here; he was fiercely independent and hated being reliant on others, but there hadn't been another choice. Julio had issued a fiat that Buddy needed to be somewhere where people could look after him and since VENOM would probably know what injuries to look for, if they chose to scour the hospitals, that meant the mansion.

Waiting at the top of the stairs was Gloria, who offered a welcoming smile. "Good," she said softly. "I can go on a supply run now."

Matt blinked. "Uh?"

"Julio said to not leave him on his own," she answered, "and you have no chicken soup or crackers."

For just a second, Matt was reminded of Sarah. She'd sworn by chicken soup and crackers any time she had dealt with an invalid. "I see."

Gloria gave him a look that suggested she didn't believe him, but simply said, "I'll see you later."

Then she was off, down the stairs. Matt shook his head. Someday, he'd ask what the deal was with chicken soup. Dismissing the matter for the time being, he headed into the apartment and made for the bedroom.

Buddy was not so much lying on the bed as sitting, propped up by a stack of pillows. His whole arm and shoulder were immobilised and heavily strapped, and between that and the pallor of his face, he looked about as bad as Matt had expected.

"Don' s'pose y'got the number of the truck tha' hit me?" Buddy slurred, squinting to Matt's right, suggesting that either he was seeing double or was simply having trouble focussing. Matt wasn't sure which to put his money on.

He smiled faintly in response to the question. "Sorry; guess it drove away before I could write it down."

Something that might have been a smile flickered across Buddy's face. "Figures." He coughed, then winced. "Ugh." He shifted and winced again. "Concussion sucks."

Matt chuckled. "You're telling **me** that?"

Another might-have-been smile crossed Buddy's face. "Right. Forgot."

Silence fell. Matt took up a seat on the chair that someone – Julio, presumably – had pulled up to the edge of the bed. There were questions that he wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure how to phrase them, or even if he **should** ask them.

"S'when d'I get t'go home?" Buddy asked presently.

"You'd have to ask Julio," Matt replied. "Not for a while, I guess."

"Figures."

Matt lifted his eyebrow. "Any thing wrong with staying here?"

"Don' wanna be trouble."

Matt rolled his eyes. As if he couldn't have predicted that answer. "And how much trouble would you be if you were at home, on your own right now?"

"Guess."

"Sometimes it's good to let other people help, y'know?"

"Pot. Kettle. Black."

Matt grinned ruefully. "Yeah; you've got a point."

Another might-have-been smile. "I know."

"I should warn you," Matt continued, "Scott comes home from school tomorrow."

"How's he done?"

"Pretty good." Matt smiled. "Only in trouble twice all semester."

Another faint smile. "Gotta be a record."

"Yeah." He shook his head. "One of those times, he was rescuing a friend who'd fallen into the school pool and couldn't swim."

Buddy actually huffed with laughter at that, although he winced afterwards. "Sounds 'bout right."

"Yeah; I guess it does."

The conversation lapsed for a few minutes. The questions Matt wanted to ask loomed large once more. As much as he wanted to put them off, some of them wouldn't wait. He sighed. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Some." Buddy swallowed. "'S 'Nessa OK?"

Matt hesitated a moment. "I don't know." He regretted the honesty a moment later as Buddy attempted to sit bolt up right and promptly turned ashen. "Buddy, just relax; lemme explain."

"Shit, tha' hurts…" Buddy sagged back against the pillows, his face grey from pain.

Matt waited until a little colour had returned to Buddy's face. Once he was reasonably sure the younger man wasn't about to pass out he explained: "Vanessa didn't stick around yesterday."

"Y'mean I wen' t'all tha' trouble an' y'let her go?" Buddy was trying to make it into a joke, but Matt could tell it was a struggle.

He sighed. "You're right; we should have kept a better eye on her, but you were the one who needed proper medical attention right then and I'm not going to make any apologies about making that choice."

"I know." Buddy sighed. "I jus'---" He closed his eyes. "Figured she'd stay."

Matt winced. "Maybe---"

"Don't," said Buddy. "Jus' don't."

"For what it's worth," said Matt carefully, "if there's one thing I've learned about Vanessa, it's that she does what she does on her own terms. Sticking around yesterday---"

"I know."

There was another long, drawn out silence. Matt began to wonder if Buddy had actually gone back to sleep.

"She was like she used to be," Buddy murmured. "When we were kids." He reopened his eyes and squinted in Matt's direction again. "I miss her, Matt."

That, more than anything else, told Matt just how bad Buddy felt. Under any normal sort of circumstances, the younger man wouldn't have made that admission no matter how obvious it was. "I know, Buddy." He thought of Andy. "I know."

"I'm back."

Gloria's return spared them either of them any more awkward conversation.

"You got what you wanted?" Matt called.

"Yup," said Gloria, appearing in the bedroom doorway, a paper sack of groceries in her arms. If she noticed the tension in the atmosphere, she made no comment. "Oh, I stopped in at the gas station, on my way back. Cassidy asked if you could give her a call; something about the accounts."

Matt smiled faintly. "Guess I'd better see what the problem is."

"'S prolly Moses wanting t'know when I'm comin' in f'the parts I ordered," Buddy murmured.

"Could be," Matt agreed. "We'll fix it, if it is." He stood up. "I'll see you later."

As he left the apartment, he heard Gloria offer Buddy some of the newly bought chicken soup. Matt shook his head. Someday, he really would ask what the deal was.

As he neared his office, though, the frown returned to his face. What did Cassidy really want? He'd picked up the accounts only a couple of days earlier, so it couldn't be that and he doubted it was due to Moses Abrahams getting antsy about Buddy collecting an order of parts. On the other hand, if it wasn't either of those things, why would she lie to Gloria about it?

Matt could think of only one reason.

God but he hoped that was it.

Quickening his pace, Matt entered the office almost at a run. At least Buddy was too out of it to have thought of this. At least if he was wrong, he was the only one going to be let down.

He picked up the phone and punched the phone number for the gas station, then waited while it connected.

"Boulder Hill Gas and Service Station, how can I help you?" Cassidy sounded bored.

"Cassidy; Gloria told me you wanted to speak to me," Matt answered.

"She sure must motor," Cassidy observed, "I only spoke to her five minutes ago."

Matt chuckled. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

It was Cassidy's turn to laugh. "Yeah well." She hesitated a beat, then continued, "I didn't like to say it to Gloria, but, I had the strangest thing happen a bit ago. Someone showed up, looking for Buddy."

Matt dropped into the seat behind his desk. "Someone?"

"Yeah."

"Did they give a name?"

Cassidy chuckled. "A fake one, sure. I guess she doesn't remember meeting me back in the day. I don't ever forget a face."

Matt closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh. "What did she say?"

"Not a whole lot. She was looking for Buddy. Kinda think whatever happened yesterday shook her up pretty bad."

"And when you told her Buddy was hurt?"

"She put it all together. Poor kid," Cassidy added. "It hit her hard. I don't figure you're gonna have any more trouble with her."

"I hope you're right, Cassidy."

The conversation over, Matt hung up the receiver and leaned back in his chair, two questions now buzzing in his mind: What would Vanessa do now? Should he tell Buddy?

The latter question was easy enough to answer. There was no way in hell he was going to tell Buddy until he was sure of the answer to his first question. Vanessa had hurt Buddy enough. There was no point in getting his hopes up.

But maybe there was enough there for at least some reason to hope.

Maybe?


End file.
